Western Wasteland: A Marvel Zombies Tale
by SteveGon
Summary: The Marvel Zombies are back! Starring the Human Fly, Team America, the Rangers, American Eagle and Guardsman! Cameo by US 1! Plus more Marvel name-dropping than you can shake an intestine at! Fans of Marvel's quirkier titles from the late seventies/early eighties should love it!


**Western Wasteland**

**A Marvel Zombies Tale**

Chapter I

The Human Fly crouched behind an ancient boulder that stood like a sentinel near a dusty Arizona highway. The intense heat was cooking the stuntman turned hero. He'd been there for hours and no one, alive or dead, had made an appearance. The vast desert seemed to mock him with its arid silence. Even the hardy creatures who lived in the blazing sands were absent. Were they in hiding or had they also been exterminated? Hard to imagine a superpowered ghoul finding a tarantula palatable mused the Fly, but anything was possible in a world gone to zombie hell.

Sipping water from a canteen, the Fly let his mind drift back a month. He'd been part of a motorcycle stunt show that included Team America. They had talked together of the zombie outbreak in New York City but figured the heroes there could handle it. The Fantastic Four and the Avengers. Those guys could take on anything. They'd beaten Godzilla hadn't they?

The Fly shuddered. He had seen from a distance the giant dinosaur as he trudged east after his west coast invasion, dogged by SHIELD and the towering robot called Red Ronin. After he'd invaded their home the heroes had forced Godzilla into the sea where he belonged. A good thing thought the Fly. A zombified Hulk was bad enough, a zombie Godzilla was absolutely terrifying.

Sunlight glinted off metal. The Human Fly roused himself from his dark thoughts. Another flash of light. He was being signalled by American Eagle, one of the few superheroes untouched by the zombie plague and one of his few allies. Eagle was staked out in a ravine on the other side of the road.

Using radios was risky so they kept in touch with mirrors using a code of their own devising. Even that was dangerous. The Fly deciphered Eagle's message. "One more hour." He agreed and settled down in the small pool of shade cast by the boulder.

The Fly again recalled the show he'd been performing at. He liked Team America and their resident den mother Georgianna. They were a close bunch, despite the irascible Wolf. He knew the team had a connection to the enigmatic biker known as the Marauder but he had not pried into the matter. They had a right to their secrets.

Johnny Blaze was to have been at the show as well but the demon-haunted cyclist known as Ghost Rider had not shown up as scheduled. The Fly could only hope that his friend had nothing to do with the zombies, but such things were beyond his ken. If the undead plague was mystical in origin then surely the vaunted Doctor Strange could handle it?

Ted Locke tightened a loose nut. He was the Human Fly's mechanic and best friend. "That should do it." he said, blowing pretend smoke from the end of his wrench like a western gunslinger. Ted wriggled his mechanical hands-a gift from Stark Industries-at the silent hero, but the Fly was busy marveling at Team America's riding prowess.

Out on the performing field Team America had started their show. The man they called Honcho rode his bike up a ramp and sailed gracefully through the air. He landed smoothly on an opposing ramp thirty feet distant. The crowd roared. The ramps were pulled apart an additional ten feet. The Human Fly grinned. He knew his friends were just getting warmed up.

Honcho's teammate, the hotheaded R.U. Reddy, waved to the crowd and gunned his engine. He took off with a sudden start and was airborne in seconds. The audience gasped as a swirling mass of air bore down on the field, kicking up dust. Reddy was plucked from his motorcycle and carried into the sky. His bike hit the ground and tumbled away. Reddy managed a single, anguished scream before he was torn apart, his bloody viscera showering the spectators below.

The zombies had come to Arizona. The New York heroes had failed.

There was a ghoul inside the tornado that mangled Reddy. The Human Fly recognized Texas Twister, the leader of the superhero team The Rangers. They were known well in the west. Twister came to rest on the grandstand roof. His features were horribly distorted, evil and rotten. He was holding one of Reddy's arms and flung it to the crowd. "Dinner time my little piggies!" he shouted.

Ted scrambled up to the Fly. "Jesus, it's them!" he screamed, "We've got to go!" The Fly had retrieved his piton gun. "You go. Find Arnie and others and just go." Ted didn't argue. It was no use contesting the Fly's will. After all he had been through, the Human Fly would never run.

The Fly had lost his family in a horrific car accident. He had almost died as well. His body shattered, the doctors had told him he'd never walk again. By sheer force of will, he not only walked again but became one of the world's greatest stuntmen. Others he knew, were not so lucky. Thus he performed for charity and had even battled a few minor supervillains. The zombies were an affront to everything he stood for. He would give them no quarter.

Ted made a mad dash for the stands, looking for his friends Arnie Berman, Blaze Kendall and Harmony Whyte. They were good people, even though Harmony had at first been an adversarial reporter who doubted the Human Fly's good intentions. But the Fly had won her over and she had become a welcome addition to the crusading stuntman's team.

The Fly watched Ted retreat. It saddened him to send his friends away, but this thing was only going to get worse. Texas Twister's teammates couldn't be far away. He would have allies though, for the surviving members of Team America had gathered around him. Perhaps they could summon the Marauder, their black-clad protector?

"You with us, moscar?" grunted Wolf. He gripped the Human Fly's shoulder tightly. Wolf was one of the toughest men the Fly knew but he was visibly shaken by his teammate's gory demise. One of R.U. Reddy's legs lay not too far away, blood seeping into the dust. "Stay sharp!" warned the Fly, "We've seen what the Twister can do!"

Cowboy stepped up, brandishing a spare exhaust pipe. "I don't care," he said, "I want that Ranger's head!" Honcho, Wrench, and Georgianna had also found makeshift weapons. A hammer, a screwdriver, a length of chain. Wolf had only his fists and anger. The Fly steeled himself for a battle he did not expect to survive. "I'm with you." he replied.

A series of explosions rocked the arena. The cars in the parking lot were exploding. The Human Fly looked up. A blazing comet streaked through the sky, shooting out jets of flame that immolated everything they touched. "Damn, that's Firebird!" hollered Cowboy. The fires spooked the crowd to its breaking point. Hundreds of people spilled out of the stands trying frantically to escape.

Firebird flew down and hovered over a panicked family. She blasted them with her flame powers and laughed at their agonized screams. Landing, she twisted a leg off the charred corpse of a little boy. "I just love the taste of human barbeque!" she said gleefully. Tossing the leg away, she ripped open the stomach of the dead boy and buried her face in his smoking guts. Firebird had once been quite lovely but there was no trace of that beauty in the slavering zombie who now feasted on children.

Texas Twister remained on his rooftop perch, as if conducting the grisly spectacle. He waved his hands like a macabre maestro, flinging hapless victims high into the sky with his wind powers. Their terrified wailing as they plummeted to earth fed his maniacal laughter.

The Human Fly felt an ocean of rage welling within him. "She dies first." he said, pointing at Firebird.

Firebird had shoved her head up inside the chest cavity of her victim, trying to get at his heart. Now she was stuck. She stood and tried to wrench herself free, looking for all the world like Siamese twins birthed in Hell. The Fly tasted bile. He could barely stomach the comically lurid sight. He imagined clawing his eyes out to spare himself the horror. But no, he would fight to the bitter end.

As Team America moved on the vulnerable Firebird, Georgianna stumbled and fell, a star-like object sticking out of her chest. She'd been shot by the Ranger known as Shooting Star. She too, was a zombie. Once a stunning southern blonde, Star's decaying face was scarred by bite marks. Perhaps Texas Twister was responsible for that. He and Star were known to be a couple. Who knew what passed for love among the living dead?

Shooting Star waved one of her famous six-shooters. The special bullets her guns fired temporarily paralyzed her victims instead of killing them. "Never sneak up on a lady!" she laughed. "Especially when she's eating!" Cowboy tried to flank Shooting Star but his advance on her was cut short. An arrow whizzed through the air and buried itself between his eyes. He fell face down, driving the arrow through the back of his head. His hat stuck on the arrow's tip, twisting in the breeze.

A zombified Red Wolf ambled out from behind one of the performing ramps, tapping his coup stick on the ground. One of his eyes was missing and his black, still heart could be seen through fleshless ribs. He began to boast. "The wolf spirit Owayodata still guides my hand, even in this undead state!" Tossing his bow and coup stick aside, he squatted next to the petrified Georgianna. "Time to break open the bank!" he laughed. Hefting his tomahawk, he split Georgianna's skull open and scooped out a handful of brains. "Save some for me!" cried Shooting Star.

The Human Fly leveled his piton gun and fired at Shooting Star. It was a dead shot. Her head blossomed crimson and splattered Red Wolf with gore. He swallowed a piece and spit it out. "Ugh! We taste awful!" he complained. It was to be his final meal. A furious Wolf grabbed him from behind and savagely snapped his neck. Red Wolf's now useless body slumped to the ground.

"That wasn't very nice!" laughed Red Wolf. "How am I supposed to eat now?" Wolf reached down and slid the undead Ranger's knife from its sheath. He stuck it in Red Wolf's good eye, making sure to twist the blade around in order to destroy the brain. "From one lobo to another, go to Hell!" growled Wolf.

"Look out!" yelled Honcho. It was too late.

Wolf was spun around and held fast by a vortex of wind. Texas Twister had left his roost. "Those were my teammates you little punk! Not that I mind, seeing as how there's more food for me now!" Twister sneered, intending to tear Wolf apart as he had R.U. Reddy.

Suddenly an ebon motorcycle slammed into Texas Twister, knocking him to the ground. The Marauder had arrived! The mysterious biker had ridden off one of the performing ramps and used his ride as a flying battering ram. The Marauder himself had jumped off at the last second. Dazed, he picked himself up and faced Texas Twister. The fiendish Ranger grinned. One of his arms was shattered, jagged bone protruding from blighted flesh. With his good arm he motioned to the Marauder. "Let's tangle, dark man!"

Honcho rushed to the Marauder's side. "He's not alone!" he shouted. It was a foolish tactic. Texas Twister used his powers to grab him. Holding Honcho aloft, Twister bit a bloody chunk of meat from his shoulder and tossed him away. "Now you're on my team, biker boy!" After losing three-fifths of his strength, the Marauder was visibly weakened. He struggled to stay on his feet.

The Human Fly and Wrench now stood with the Marauder but he seemed dazed and unaware of their presence. They each carried one of Shooting Star's pistols. "Think those will work on zombie folk?" laughed the Twister. Faster than Wrench and the Fly could fire, he levitated Red Wolf's coup stick and ran the Marauder through with it. "Damn, you ain't nearly the big deal you was made out to be!" he roared.

Texas Twister stopped gloating after Wrench and the Human Fly shot him. He was surprised to find Shooting Star's bullets had an effect on him after all. "Well, I'll be damned!" he said as his body stiffened. Wolf sidled up to him, waving Red Wolf's knife. "Here's something for your eye, wind demon!"

Wolf was poised to bury the blade in Twister's head when Firebird swooped over and grabbed him. She had freed herself at last. "You're cute," she teased, shaking her head to fling gore from her hair. "Won't you join our club?" She buried her teeth in Wolf's neck, savoring his warm, spurting blood. Wolf dropped the knife and swore at Firebird with his last, living breath.

Wrench and the Human Fly emptied their guns into Wolf and Firebird. Wolf went down, unable to move. Firebird faltered but managed to fly away. "Those don't bother me overly much you silly heroes-my powers nullify their effects!" Flame sizzled from her fingers and a nearby gas truck exploded with a thunderclap. Darkness claimed the Fly.

The world slowly swam into focus for the Human Fly. His ears rang. Picking himself up he saw a bloodied Wrench holding the body of the Marauder. He stumbled over and knelt down beside them. "I'm fine," cried Wrench, "Just cut up a bit." He seemed oblivious to a piece of metal sticking out of his arm. Wrench looked at the Fly plaintively. "We have to help him, I think he's dying."

The Fly reached down and pulled off the Marauder's mask. It was Arnie Berman, one of his crew! "I don't get it," he stammered, "How could Arnie be the Marauder?" Wrench answered. "My teammates and I are...were mutants. Whenever we were in trouble, someone, anyone, would become the Marauder and help us out." Wrench hung his head. "I'm sorry about your friend. We have no control over who our power selects to be the Marauder."

The Fly nodded slowly, mulling it over. He knew of mutants, knew of the infamous X-Men and their battle to be accepted by humanity. He wanted to blame them for Arnie but that was a path he refused to take. Even if mutants were the threat they were made out to be, it mattered little in a world that belonged to the living dead. No, the best he could do now was to sit in the bloodsoaked dust and cradle his dying friend's head.

Arnie came to and coughed, frothing red at the corners of his mouth. He grasped the coup stick with blanched fingers. He was fading fast and the Fly knew it. "Arnie, where are the others? Ted, Harmony and Blaze? Arnie sighed. "Ted and Harmony are dead. They were in the van. That flaming woman blew it up. They died quick, better than most."

"What about Blaze? Did she make it out?" asked the Fly hopefully. Arnie shook his head slowly. "She was rounded up with some other people. Taken away by a white cowboy on a white horse. The Rider they called him. I hid from them. Cowered in one of those portable bathrooms. Funny isn't it?" Those were his last words. "It's okay," cried the Fly, clenching Arnie's hand, "You made up for it."

The Human Fly covered Arnie with his cape. He was gone now, as were Ted and Harmony. But Blaze was possibly still alive. "Let's go," he said to Wrench, "But first you need to get those wounds tended to." Wrench nodded. "Yeah, I guess so." He paused. "I saw the Twister and Firebird take off with Wolf, but what about Honcho? We have to take care of him."

They looked for the missing Team America leader. The arena was deathly quiet save for the crackling of fires. Then Wrench and the Fly heard a pitiable moaning. It was Honcho and he was a zombie. He had been cut in half by shrapnel from the explosion. His legs gone, he crawled towards them begging for flesh. "You! Let me bite you! Just one bite! Please! Just a nibble!" The Fly picked up Cowboy's exhaust pipe and clubbed Honcho until he was dead again. "Now we can leave." he said, tossing away the brain-specked weapon.

They left the arena stopping just long enough to patch up Wrench's wounds at a first aid station. Along the way they picked up another refugee, a woman named Carla Anderson. She had lost her boyfriend in the zombie attack. The Phantom Rider had shot him down and made a banquet of his insides. But that was not the worst thing she had seen in her life.

Carla would later tell her tale. She had moved west to escape a nightmarish past. Once a resident of Clairton, West Virginia, she had lost her entire family to the insidious Dire Wraiths. The evil, shapeshifting aliens were second only to the zombie plague in menace. The shining spaceknight Rom, enemy of the Wraiths, had saved her and it was his nobility that inspired her to keep going, despite the tragedy her life had become. The Human Fly liked Carla. She was a survivor.

Chapter II

American Eagle prodded the Human Fly with his crossbow, bringing him back to the present. "Still with me, amigo?"

The Fly stood and stretched. "I'm here." Eagle looked at him with half a smile. "How can you can wear that mask? Isn't it unbearable?" The Fly tugged on the stifling cloth that covered his face. "It is. And I'll take it off only when those damned things are all dead." Eagle understood. "Well, I don't think we're going to find anything today," he said, "Besides, it's getting late. Want to wrap it up?" The Fly scanned the horizon one last time. Nothing. No sign of the zombies or other survivors. Their search could continue another day. "Yes, let's go home."

The setting sun hung low and fat over the desert, creating distorted shadows that mocked the retreating heroes.

Home was an abandoned Utrecht research facility outside of Phoenix. The squat buildings there were spartan and fortified. Simon Utrecht built things to last. Fortunately Utrecht himself was long gone. The power hungry multi-millionaire and three companions had turned themselves into the supervillains called the U-Foes and never looked back. The complex had long since been idle.

There were plenty of comfortable homes and office buildings available in Phoenix, but the zombie Rangers patrolled the deserted city too regularly for it to be considered safe. Soon, the Fly thought, nowhere would be safe.

American Eagle and the Human Fly trudged in after dark, daylight being ill-suited for travel now that the zombies ruled the land. Their new home was unlit and deathly quiet, lights weren't used at night for fear it would alert the Rangers to their presence. The Fly stopped at the main entrance. The tension and frustration felt by his fellow survivors was palpable. Hopefully Wrench had made some kind of contact. Something had to give.

The Fly knocked on Wrench's door. "We're back," he said, "Empty-handed. How about you?" The sole surviving Team America member sat on an uncomfortable couch, barely discernable in the shadows. Wrench had set up a ham radio in a maintenance building on the far edge of the complex, the distance serving as a safety precaution in case the zombies were listening. Wrench spent most of his time there. "Yeah, I found someone," he answered, "A SHIELD agent actually, but all by himself in some basement in Tucson." The Fly tensed. "What did he have to say?"

Wrench picked at an army MRE salvaged from a zombie-blasted military convoy. "He said he was part of an engineering team assigned to reassemble the Red Ronin robot. They were slaughtered by the zombie hero Nova before they could finish." Wrench tossed his half-eaten meal in the trash. "He also said SHIELD is done for, the Joes are gone and all the supers are turned. We're screwed."

Red Ronin and its SHIELD operators could easily have destroyed the zombie Rangers thought the Human Fly. He remembered his fellow stuntman Richard Carson, one of the best in the buisness. For a time Carson had commanded one of the three mighty Shogun Warriors, giant robots akin to Red Ronin. But the Shoguns had somehow been destroyed and Carson had returned to his old life. The Fly's heart darkened. No, he would not give in. Evil would not triumph. He would prevail as he always had. But first he needed sleep.

The Human Fly slept fitfully, tormented by kaleidoscopic nightmares. Smoke and heat. Screams of pain. Falling bodies cratering the ground. Leering zombies drooling blood. Buzzards circling, waiting to feast on tender eyes. And Blaze Kendall, his brave pilot, beckoning to him from beyond.

The Fly felt relief when he woke to thunder. Another rumble. American Eagle was pounding on his door. "We've got something!" he shouted. The Fly rubbed the sleep from his eyes and dressed quickly, throwing on his last spare cape. He followed Eagle outside where the hero known as Guardsman was hovering about thirty feet in the air, the brilliant rays of the morning sun reflecting off his green armor. Guardsman had been the first of an elite squad of armored security guards whose primary responsibility was to watch over the secretive Project Pegasus installation, hidden deep in the Adirondack Mountains.

When Project Pegasus fell to the zombies, this original Guardsman escaped and fled west. None of his fellow Guardsmen had made it thanks to the undead Quasar. Guardsman met American Eagle in New Mexico and helped him track the zombified Razorback who was on a rampage there. Together they found and dispatched him. Eagle had kept the former hero's huge tusks as a trophy.

The Fly and his companions ran into Guardsman and American Eagle as they followed the swath of destruction left by the Rangers. The Fly knew they had hoped to find someone more powerful, someone who could help them take on the Rangers, but they had found him instead. A minor league, part time hero whose claim to fame was having once fought alongside Spider-Man. Guardsman and Eagle often kidded the Fly. "Who hasn't teamed up with Spider-Man?" Still, they had learned to respect the Fly for his bravery and humanity. They knew a more noble ally would be hard to find.

The Human Fly scampered up a telephone pole. Guardsman floated over and pointed east. "There, do you see it?" The Fly shaded his eyes against the rising sun. Less than a mile away, a red, white and blue semi barreled down an access road headed towards an office complex. A rotting human head served as a grisly hood ornament, presumably the truck's former owner. A decorative shield was fixed on the roof of the cab, emblazoned with the logo US 1. "The United States doesn't exist any more." thought the Fly sadly.

The truck driver was a zombified Wolf. Texas Twister followed the semi some ways behind, unmistakable despite the swirling winds that masked him from direct view. Bringing up the rear was the Phantom Rider. Firebird was nowhere to be seen.

The heroes watched as the zombie Rangers halted near a cluster of buildings. Texas Twister landed on the semi's trailer and gestured to the Phantom Rider with his good arm. Wolf jumped down from the cab, nibbling on a human leg. The Rider opened the trailer doors and a dozen people spilled out. "God!" cried Guardsman, "They have prisoners!"

They watched in horror as Texas Twister used his powers to snatch a wailing infant from its terrified mother. With a messy and demented relish he devoured his tender victim. Meanwhile the Phantom Rider and Wolf herded the other survivors into a small warehouse. The Rider laughed as Wolf swatted their captives with the leg he'd been eating. The Human Fly and Guardsman looked at each other. They had to make a move.

"Those folks won't last long," said the Fly, "We know how the hunger affects those zombies. They won't be able to resist the urge to feed." American Eagle stood up from his kneeling position. "Then the sooner we attack the better." he said. The Fly nodded in agreement. Guardsman raised his face plate. "The Rangers need to be taken down. Count me in." His words carried an underlying truth.

Saving the captives was important, but killing the zombie Rangers was even more important. No other superpowered ghouls had appeared locally so the Fly supposed wiping out Texas Twister and his teammates would make the area safe. It wouldn't be easy but it was a risk worth taking. It was better than hiding all the time. The Human Fly was not one to hide.

Carla Anderson watched them go. The Human Fly had yet to reveal his identity to her. American Eagle was Jason Strongbow. Guardsman was Michael O'Brien. She would remember their names, just as she remembered Brock Jones, the heroic Torpedo. Jones had died defending her hometown of Clairton against the Dire Wraiths. The world had lost so many heroes. She hoped these last three would return.

Wrench turned his back as the Human Fly and his two companions left on their mission. His eyes were cold and hard. Eyes that wanted revenge. American Eagle had promised him Texas Twister's evil head on a stick. He wanted to spit on the foul thing and curse the loss of his teammates and Georgianna. Only then could he move on.

Chapter III

The three heroes moved fast. They hoped for a surprise attack. The powerful Texas Twister was their primary target. Firebird as well if she was still around. The Phantom Rider and Wolf would be relatively easy pickings. "Sure wish my buddy Machine Man was here," Guardsman declared, "But I heard he got shredded by the zombie Hulk." The armored hero was silent for a moment. "Heck, I'd even take those Micronaut fellows I met once. They were tiny little guys, but boy they sure could fight!"

The Human Fly and American Eagle looked at Guardsman quizzically. They knew of the android hero Machine Man and were saddened to hear of his destruction. But they had never heard of the Micronauts. The Guardsman smiled behind his helmet and waved his hand. "Never mind. They're gone now. Back to inner space or wherever they came from."

The Fly spoke of his own friends, Spider-Man and the White Tiger. They both operated in New York, the nexus of the zombie apocalypse. It grieved him to think of those noble heroes being perverted by the cannibal plague, but with New York a charnel house he had little reason to believe otherwise. And what of Shang-Chi, the taciturn kung fu master with whom he'd playfully sparred at a martial arts exhibition? Shang was a wanderer with powerful and obscure ties around the world. Had he escaped the slaughter?

American Eagle was silent on the subject of friends. "Only the gods are with us today." he said. The Human Fly pondered that thought. For all he knew the gods were zombies too.

They wended their way to the warehouse where the prisoners were being kept, wary eyes searching for any sign of Wolf and the zombie Rangers. The Human Fly checked his piton gun. Guardsman ran a systems check, confirming that his repulsor rays were in working order. American Eagle had traded in his crossbow for a shotgun. A scream broke the silence, coming from inside the building. Eagle flattened himself along the wall of the warehouse near its front entrance. Guardsman levitated and hovered just over the edge of the roof. The Human Fly took up position behind the abandoned semi.

Soon the horror would reveal itself. They were ready.

Texas Twister sauntered through the warehouse door, slurping on a human liver. American Eagle stepped out, catching him by surprise. He jammed the barrel of the shotgun under the zombie Ranger's chin and pulled the trigger. Blam! Twister's head separated from his body and spun through the air like a bloody top. Twister cursed. His flying head buzzed American Eagle, gnashing its teeth. "Come here you damned Indian! I ain't never tasted redskin before!"

Fury blazed in American Eagle's eyes. He batted Twister's head away. "So you wanna play tag do ya?" roared the furious Ranger. Then it was over. Guardsman used his repulsor rays to piledrive Twister's head into the pavement. It bounced once and lay still, leaking ichor and exposing brains through a large crack in its skull.

The Human Fly leapt from behind the semi intending to help American Eagle. His extraordinary reflexes saved him as he sensed the Phantom Rider coming up fast behind him. The Rider fired his pistols at the Fly and missed, hitting and blowing apart the severed head mounted on the grill. The Fly rolled over and fired his piton gun at the Phantom Rider, impaling him through his abdomen. Using the cable attached to the piton, he jerked the zombie horseman from his mount. The Rider's captive horse neighed loudly and galloped off, relieved to be rid of its loathsome burden.

The Phantom Rider struggled to his feet and pulled the piton from his stomach with a bloody squelch. His entrails slithered through the gaping wound like escaping snakes. The Rider glared at the Human Fly. "My ancestor's ghost may have left my body," he declared, "But I don't need his mystical powers to beat you in a fight!" The Fly shook his head and replied, "This fight is already over." Activating the auxiliary jets hidden in his boots, he launched himself skyward.

Flying over the startled Phantom Rider, the Human Fly stabbed a second piton down through the top of his skull. Attached to it was one of the Fly's miniature explosive charges. The Rider scrabbled weakly at the spike but it was too late. His head exploded in a fiery blast.

His auxiliary jets exhausted, the Human Fly landed several yards away. Bits and pieces of the Phantom Rider's brain and skull rained down around him. "Look sharp, Fly!" hollered American Eagle. He was pointing skyward with his shotgun. The Fly looked up to see the zombie Firebird bearing down on him. "Looks like this party is cooling off!" she shouted, "Let's see if I can't heat it up again!"

The Fly's agility saved him again as Firebird hurled twin streams of flame at him. One went wide, boring a hole through the side of the semi's trailer. The other singed his cape and melted one of the semi's tires to a smoking sludge. Suddenly a green flash rocketed across the sky and collided with Firebird. It was Guardsman!

Zombie Firebird floundered, giving Guardsman enough time to blast her with his repulsors. He drove her down behind the semi's cab, right between its twin gas tanks. The impact broke her spine with a sickening crunch. "Oh, you nasty little man!" she cried, "I'm going to roast you in that armor!" Her eyes widened as the Human Fly flitted across her limited field of vision, tossing one of his little bombs at her as he went. "No! I won't die hungry!" But die hungry she did. The semi's gas tanks exploded with a boom and a flash and Firebird went to Hell cursing the Fly.

Guardsman landed beside the Human Fly. "It's over." he said, removing his helmet. The Fly held his palm up to warn his friend. "Not just yet it isn't," he said cautiously, "We need to find Wolf. He might not have powers but he's still plenty dangerous."

"Don't worry, Wolf will find you!" laughed the remains of Texas Twister. Brain damaged as he was, the decapitated leader of the now defunct zombie Rangers could only muster a fraction of his awesome powers. Tiny eddies of wind danced around his mad eyes, barely strong enough to kick up the sand. The heroes were both fascinated and horrified. How strange and awful the zombie plague was!

American Eagle picked up Twister's head. "A friend of mine would like to meet you," he stated, "He will send you to be with your teammates. After a while." The Eagle never saw Wolf coming. Guardsman and the Human Fly did but it was too late to cry out. The zombified Team America member charged from the warehouse interior and jumped the Eagle from behind. "Let's see how them Indian brains taste!" he cried.

Wolf bit furiously into American Eagle's skull, pulling out a stringy chunk of scalp. Grimly determined, Jason Strongbow stuck the end of his shotgun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The shell blew off the top of his cranium and obliterated Wolf's face and brains. Texas Twister's head dropped to the ground and rolled away. Spitting out dust and bile, he guffawed. "Two for one shot! Damnation!"

Guardman and the Human Fly were stunned. American Eagle was gone, lost to the terror that had claimed so many. The fire from the burning semi was overbearing but they seemed not to notice. What was a little more heat in Hell?

"Nice to see you again, Fly."

The missing Blaze Kendall stood framed by the warehouse door. The Fly looked at her with horror in his eyes. Blaze was a zombie and had wreathed herself in human intestines. She bit off a piece of innards and swallowed it whole. "I told them you'd come looking for me and this is what they did," she rasped, "Won't you join me? The hunger is so wonderful! The flesh is good!"

The Human Fly stumbled backwards, his composure wrecked. "I'm sorry, Blaze. I'm so sorry but I can never be like you." Blaze shuffled towards him, holding out a loop of guts. Guardsman stepped in front of his dazed friend. Calling on his energy reserves he hit Blaze with the unfettered force of his repulsor rays and splattered her rotting body all over the cement wall of the warehouse. The Fly wept.

Chapter IV

They buried American Eagle under an outcropping of rock that commanded a fine view of the desert. It was a good place for him to rest. Few words were said, none were really needed. The winds cooled his grave as a distant eagle winged through the sky. They knew his spirit would watch over them forever.

Three survivors had been salvaged from the bloodsoaked warehouse. A man and his twin daughters. The zombies had been saving the girls for last. "Twins taste best!" giggled the severed head of Texas Twister. Guardsman quickly chucked it into a cardboard box and handed the gruesome package to Wrench. Delivery as promised.

Carla tended to the terrified girls while the Human Fly and Guardsman questioned their father. He was a flight instructor named Rodney Wilson who claimed as a cousin the hero known as the Falcon. He knew of no other survivors. The zombie Rangers had talked of the scarcity of living humans. The other undead heroes had picked the whole Earth clean, even the Sub-Mariner's undersea kingdom had been destroyed. It was rumored that the more powerful of the zombie supers had abandoned Earth in search of other worlds to consume.

It was a certainty that some of the lesser ghouls remained, searching out the rare delicacy that was living human flesh. They would have to be dealt with. But that was a battle for another day. Now the tiny group of survivors could rest.

The twin girls were named Alice and Terri. Carla soothed them with tales of her past, of the Clairton massacre and how she had survived it. She talked of Rom and the other spaceknights and heroes who had vanquished the Dire Wraiths. No matter how bad things got, there would always be heroes. Carla saw hope glimmer in the eyes of the girls and smiled.

The Human Fly had claimed the Phantom Rider's steed as his own. Carla and the girls volunteered to clean and brush the poor creature. The simple act of grooming proved to be a calming experience for all involved. The horse seemed content to once again be among the living and the girls were happy to have something to care for. Carla knew the Fly would be pleased and she couldn't wait to see him astride the magnificent beast.

Guardsman and Rodney Wilson sat and talked over steaming cups of coffee. Rodney spoke of his dead wife Robin. Texas Twister had poked a hole in her head with a lead pipe, using it like a straw to suck out her brains. The zombie horror had branded Rodney, marked him and his daughters for life. For those seared memories he pledged to exact tribute from the ghouls who still lurked in the shadows.

Rodney asked Guardsman to accompany him to his home in Drexel Heights. He wanted to retrieve an old flying harness given to him by his cousin Sam. Guardsman agreed. He had met Sam Wilson once, back when the Falcon had been partners with Colonel America. Sam was likely gone now but Rodney was ready to take up his mantle, ready to avenge the dead as well as the memories of the heroes that had been.

Guardsman knew Drexel Heights was near Tucson, where the SHIELD agent Wrench had contacted was holed up. Perhaps he and that lone operative could get Red Ronin up and running again. Then there would be a reckoning. The thought of zombies pulped under the heel of the giant robot made him grin. He would sow the land with their rotten, stinking corpses. Those dead bastards were going to pay. They had it coming.

The Human Fly stood alone, gazing up at the stars. There was a chill in the air so he wrapped himself in his cape. The scorched fabric gave off a pungent, smokey odor, a vivid reminder of Firebird's power and of his own near death. He would have to create a new cape. Indeed, he would have to create a new life in this world savaged by the undead. But he was good at starting over.

The Fly wondered if the zombies who had left Earth would ever return, but the darkening sky refused to give up its secrets. Perhaps someone out in the cold reaches of space could stop them. But if they came back he would be waiting. He was prepared to wait a long time.

The man called the Human Fly took off his mask and flung it away. He closed his eyes and let the cool night air caress his face. He pushed away the ghosts of his past and smiled. It was time to rejoin his friends.

The last Team America member sat in the basement of the maintenance building where he had once kept a hopeful vigil. Texas Twister's head sat on a workbench, surrounded by sharp tools. Wrench looked at it with narrowed eyes that lacked any trace of humanity. He picked up a screwdriver. "Let's see if you can feel pain." he said. "Oh?" replied the Twister, "This is going to be fun!"


End file.
